Casey's Last Ride - John Denver

Casey joins the hollow sound of silent people walking down
the stairway to the subway in the shadows down below.
Following their footsteps through the neon darkened corridors
of silent desperation, never speaking to a soul.
The poison air he's breathing has the dirty smell of dying
'cause it's never seen the sunshine, and it's never felt the rain.
But Casey minds the arrows and ignores the fatal echoes
of the clicking of the turnstile and the rattle of his chains.

"Oh," she said, "Casey it's been so long since I've seen you.
"Here," she said, "just a kiss to make a body smile."
"See," she said, "I've put on new stockings just to please you.
"Lord," she said, "Casey can you only stay awhile?"

Casey leaves the underground and stops inside the Golden Crown
for something wet to wipe away the chill that's on his bones.
Seeing his reflection in the lives of all the lonely men
who reach for anything they can to keep from going home.
Standing in the corner, Casey drinks his pint of bitter,
never glancing in the mirror at the people passing by.
Then he stumbles as he's leaving, and he wonders if the reason
is the beer that's in his belly or the tear that's in his eye.

"Oh," she said, "I suppose you seldom think about me."
"Now," she said, "now that you've a family of your own."
"Still," she said, "it's so blessed good to feel your body,"
"Lord," she said, "Casey, it's a shame to be alone."

"Oh," she said, "Casey it's been so long since I've seen you.
"Here," she said, "just a kiss to make a body smile."
"See," she said, "I've put on new stockings just to please you.
"Lord," she said, "Casey can you only stay awhile?"
"Lord," she said, "Casey, it's a shame to be alone."